


owl

by imaginedecember



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedecember/pseuds/imaginedecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know this is egotistical to record this stuff but this is my first AI and I'm really excited. Plus, I mean, who would ever watch this, anyway? And if you are watching this, I'm probably dead."</p><p>There was a pause before he spoke again, "And if that person is Ray, Meg, Geoff or, Hell, Michael, Gavin or Jack, well, I'm sorry for how things turned out. I never meant for it to end like this. But, please, know that I'm kinda in my right mind here? And, uh, if you aren't any of those people, then, hello, I'm Ryan Haywood and this is my story."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in translation

**Author's Note:**

> **_Warnings:_** Mental health issues: anxiety, depression, dissociation, etc. These are humans and I have tried my hardest to make that true. From breaking to recovery, and every slide, crash, and soar in between. These are my confessions as much as it is theirs. Please, don't read this if you know that it wouldn't go well. If you need to talk, I am always here. In addition, the boys are criminals. They don't kill anyone but violence is as briefly mentioned as possible.
> 
> Setting: Most of the population cannot see color, only a sepia tone in the morning and monochrome or grayscale at night. But there’s the rare percent that can and each color comes in one at a time. Everyone mentioned in the story can see color except Meg and Michael's boss.
> 
> Inspiration: Blue October is a band that has been with me for years, especially now as I write this. They're remarkable honesty still astounds me and I suggest giving them a try, especially their live albums.

“I’m looking up information on New Age, sir.”

Michael’s boss was hounding him. Again. Michael was gonna ditch the Santa Claus routine if this bullshit kept up. Sure, he was off doing his own thing and finding his own stories but cookie cutter, mom and pop stories were getting stale. He wanted to be in Austin. The big city and even bigger leagues. He’d find much better work down there than in Stella, Ohio.

But New Age was crawling into his skin, getting up underneath him and making him wish that the city was a video game. He’d be able to know it backwards and forwards. But all that was left of the city was a towering pile of police records. 

New Age, California was essentially a ghost town, like Linda Vista Hospital up in L.A.. The people just picked up and left. But there was something there that was begging to be released. Maybe it was just ghosts but Michael was a stickler for the enticing nature of knowledge. And being the first to actually have the balls to thoroughly comb through the magical city of New Age was too beautiful to pass up. 

So, naturally, his boss can go and suck it.

Or suck him.

Because, whether the shithead like it or not, he needed him. He could see most colors and their never ending list of subcategories by now. A few were still illusive to him but, thankfully, once you saw the standard color, the various shades and hues came with ease. Seeing a completely new color was always astounding and made him falter and freeze. 

There were a shit ton of articles on it. Most of the population could only see sepia during the morning and grayscale at night. There were the few that got to see beyond it. It used to be a huge deal but now it was accepted and even revered. Except Michael wouldn’t think he was so lucky when the first color he ever saw was orange.

But because Michael didn’t wanna go down that road, he shoved it aside. Focus. Twist and please. He frowned, something sullen and crestfallen like he was sorrowful that he had to do this. “Dr. Smith, there are clear demonstrations that I can multi-task and whatever you need me to write will always be top priority.” 

Michael’s ego purred, the sound rumbling underneath his skin as his supervisor fell to his words. Rhetoric was always a powerful weapon. Sometimes that was all Michael needed and if that didn’t work, rage and a few right hooks or well placed kicks did nicely. But his supervisor didn’t need all that, just a single reminder that he had a PhD to get the superficial image of his power over Michael to stay for a little while.

And when it stayed, Michael tried so hard not to smile and cackle. His supervisor deflated with a well timed blush, stammering, “That’s good, Michael. Very good. You just do your thing and when we’re ready for you to take on another story in the community, I’ll come by and tell you.”

“But, sir, I can handle it. Just give me whatever story you got and it’ll be on your desk within no time.” Michael allowed the smile, then, as his supervisor turned without even saying a word and escaped.

Michael laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. It was so easy to get what he wanted sometimes. Except for the one fucking thing that he wanted. Not even fake wanted. No ulterior motive. Complex but pure. But that was the past.

And no one would know the real reason New Age curled around him like an old friend from years ago. 

No one would know. 

Squaring his shoulders, Michael cracked his fingers and went back to digging up more information. He ignored the familiar names in the police reports and got himself a plane ticket on his supervisor's dime. If he went to New Age, he’d see that it was dead and gone, that everything was over with.

And that maybe, just maybe everyone would still be ghosts. 

+

The camera was not something that Michael had anticipated. 

Materialistic shit was all left behind. Everything personal had been sucked out. But that camera held another person’s life in it. If Michael was in the same situation, he would have grabbed it, if not for the personal reasons than for the liability. At least. Who knows what kind of evidence would be on that thing or what crazy mob boss used it to record his evil deeds? 

New Age was grimmy underneath all that pretty exterior. 

He had learned that the hard way. He was lucky that he had escaped at all. 

But this stupid camera. It haunted the back of his mind until he allowed it to sit front and center on the motel bed in a small city a few roads away from New Age. He groaned as he pulled out his laptop and shoved the USB into the slot. Clicking around, he tilted his head at the oddly named files. There were three of them all labeled with OWL and designated with their appropriate numbers. He shrugged as he started up the first video. 

Leaning back into the motel pillows, Michael froze when a familiar face greeted him. He was wearing those damn black sweatpants and the dark gray tank top, showing off his stupid muscles and that saccharine smile. At least it wasn’t the other guy.

Something stirred inside Michael as he was taken back, claws tearing his heart to poor little shreds. Fuck, he wasn’t weak. Goddamn this shit. 

Michael shoved the laptop to the side, letting the familiar voice wash over him. Frigid and hot shame overridden his need to curl in and forever forget. 

Sighing, he grabbed the laptop. He white knuckled it and sucked in his lion pride and let it roar over the sound of forget, forget, forget, forget.

The man began speaking, "I know this is egotistical to record this stuff but this is my first AI and I'm really excited. Plus, I mean, who would ever watch this, anyway? And if you are watching this, I'm probably dead."

There was a pause before he spoke again, "And if that person is Meg, Geoff or Ray, or, Hell, Michael, Gavin or Jack, well, I'm sorry for how things turned out. I never meant for it to end like this. But, please, know that I'm kinda in my right mind here? And, uh, if you aren't any of those people, then, hello, I'm Ryan Haywood and this is my story."

That name. Michael screamed. It rang out raw and harsh against the walls.

He was panting. 

His heart rattled around his chest harsh and unforgiving. 

And it kept on chanting that stupid name.

Somehow, he managed to pause the video before Ryan could continue on. Raking his hands through his hair, he prepared himself for the onslaught of memories but when none came, he realized with relief that the walls that he had built were made with something better than concrete and the best security system around. 

He could do this.

He was Michael motherfucking Jones.

And Geoff fucking dickwad Ramsey wasn’t gonna beat him into submission.

With that resolution in mind, Michael grabbed his laptop and hit play.

+

Michael had made a seemingly easy enough list after watching Ryan fiddle around with wires and metal for a few minutes while watching a familiar stream. Everything was twisted up inside Michael but making a list was simple. 

Grabbing a pad of paper and a pen from his suitcase, he began a tentative list. He knew enough background information to guess what each file contained. 

Save File 1 was simple. The building of the AI. Ryan and Meg’s conversations. And, then, his fall. Michael wasn’t prepared enough for that bit of the video log but he would tough it out. Somehow.

Save File 2 through 3 was a complete and utter question mark. See, Ryan had been in New Age for a few months and that’s when shit hit the fan real quick in the span of a week. There weren’t enough events to last two files, let alone three. 

It occurred to Michael that he didn’t know anything at all. 

He was a lone wolf and had escaped all the crime bosses that had the harshest and thickest claws. He went under the radar. It was coincidence that Geoff had found him. He had seen something in him, had taken him under his wing and had done a lot more things. But that was then. And that then wasn’t anything Ryan knew about. 

Oh, fucking God, what if Ryan had a conversation with Geoff in the warehouse? And about him? 

Michael slammed the pad of paper against his head, praying for a paper cut to induce mass trauma. Okay, so, maybe this was gonna be harder than he thought. But he could do this. Obviously. 

So, back to the files. There were some events he knew and others were hazy. Ryan built the AI. Ryan had buddy time with Meg. Ryan took Meg. At least that’s what Geoff was screaming about with Jack that one night that Michael had snuck into the third or seventh safehouse that Geoff had owned. He didn’t know Geoff and Jack were there and had overheard the conversation. 

Later, Geoff had told him that he knew he was there and had sat him down to tell him that Meg, their arms dealer, knew Ryan and that he was going straight off the deepend. Michael would never forget that look in Geoff’s eyes, the shade of it hazy and somewhere in between all sorts of different blues. 

He saw worry nestled deep within the pigments and there was relief in the laxness of his body knocking warmly against his own. He remembered him saying that he was so fucking thankful that Michael was smarter, that he was too stubborn to have anyone command him, that he knew that power came in different forms, that he had survived. Geoff had curled a hand around his hair and tugged until Michael’s forehead was pressed to his lips. They had stayed like that for a bit. Halfway in fear and halfway in elation because a skipping heart was joyous to feel. 

Michael didn’t know that his body was shuddering until the pad slipped from his fingers and on to the floor.

Ryan built an AI. Time with Meg. Reveal. Time with Geoff. The end. 

What were in those fucking files? 

Michael could just watch, obviously, but there was something inside him that begged for him to think of the logistics first like there was something in those videos that was going to hurt him. A monster lurking in the shifting shadows. 

Maybe also because this video wasn’t for him. Or at least Save File 2 and 3 weren’t. Grabbing his laptop, Michael minimized the first video and clicked on the second one. 

It began with Ryan looking like he just got ran over by a truck. There were oil stains on his hands and they were red from constant scrubbing. Like there was invisible blood there and it was soaking into his skin.

He was hunched over his knees trying his best to just breathe. Underwater. Swimming in loneliness for fucking miles. 

“This video’s only for Meg. I wanted to tell you about the postcards but I, uh, never got a chance. And, fuck, you deserved to have got out of here while you could. There’s a war and I know you’re capable but I don’t want you getting caught up in this shit that I started.”

Ryan paused as if his ribs were digging into his lungs. The next words came out ragged. “There’s so much I never told you about who I am. Guess it doesn’t matter. Pretty much completely different now. But I just want you to see who I was. I don’t expect you to forgive me or understand. But, please, at least watch this. Or keep it and never watch it. Doesn’t matter as long as you know that I can say I’m sorry a million times but it’ll never excuse my actions.”

Ryan was staring at the camera and it was like that one moment with Geoff were there several worlds beneath the varying shades of blue. Michael couldn’t decipher it. 

He wasn’t the person who was supposed to.

“And, just...you’re so important to me. And that’s something that I’ll never forgive myself for never saying.”

The gravity of his words weighed on Michael’s heart. He felt like he shouldn’t watch this video. It wasn’t for him. Exiting the video, Michael waved his mouse around before clicking on the third video. 

Ryan wasn’t in the warehouse this time. Instead, he was on the road outside the building, kicking at dirt and staring at the sky like a man heading to Heaven. The wind swept up his hair and he basked in the cool press of its kiss. 

Ryan addressed the camera with a hidden type of smile, one that Michael knew was reserved for those who were daring enough to get close. 

Michael knew that feeling all too well. 

“Ray.” And Ryan laughed to himself. A helpless sound. “There’s a lot of things that I have to say. But here’s one thing that I couldn’t say.”

Ryan spread his arms wide and glanced over his shoulder at the open road leading out of New Age. He took a breath before the camera began shaking a bit as he walked to the warehouse. He took off his sunglasses and pushed them up into his hair. The smile he had was crazy as he opened the door to an empty building. He panned the camera. 

Hot sunshine sliced through the emptiness as he said, “I’m leaving this all behind. I love you and I’ll see you in Austin soon, baby.” The confession and endearment threw Michael for a loop. His mind swooped with the camera as it spun around and around the room in a dizzying blur. It faded and faded into a different part. 

Michael didn’t realize he was smiling until he paused it and let the title card chop up his reflection. He was happy that Ryan and Ray had made it. He could see Meg eventually going down with them. He wondered if Jack and Gavin were in there too and if they had finally gotten together. And if Geoff was there with them, forgetting everything about him for a better life than he had led before. He wondered what their jobs were and if they were, finally, loving life. If there was a Save File 4, he would have been able to witness it, to know that things were okay. 

Grabbing the camera, he turned it round and round before he gave in and turned it on. Thankfully, the battery was half full. Michael stood, holding the camera steady as he stared at the lens. 

He took a deep breath and began.


	2. save file 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings: R slur at the beginning. It's a song title and in the lyrics. I kept the slur because it is apart of the song. But I do not condone the use of the slur and the band's intentions are not malicious.**  
>   
>  **A/N** : In order to separate Michael's thoughts from what is happening in the video that he is watching, I have put Michael's thoughts in brackets. If it is completely Michael's thoughts, there will be a page break and there will be no brackets.  
>   
> Furthermore, the villain is anonymous so fill in whoever as you see fit.

_Learning to love life by living through loss and mistakes._  
_Lessons learned then gradually surfacing,_  
_Letting go, stripping naked to scream._  
_I am not perfect nor do I strive to be._  
_I am alive in this world of face first falls and public breakdowns._  
_I'm a retarded, disfigured clown._  
_Dying to be heard through the simple art of letting this heavy wall finally fall._  
_I'm an equal being of no race, or color, a hallucination if you will._  
_Sneaking into the lives of strangers, and letting them fall apart to a new rhythm just to feel better._

_-Blue October - Retarded Disfigured Clown_

+

After the introduction, the video spun back to the first day of the last week of New Age’s existence. Ryan and Meg were in the warehouse. 

“I see something’s different about your hair,” Ryan said. He had his reading glasses on, something that Meg insisted after she realized that he had been staring at a laptop screen for hours. She was sitting on a stool beside him, messing around on her D.S. or occasionally looking at the roomba that Ryan had gutted. They exchanged light conversation from time to time but this was more than just casual. 

[Michael saw the photos that were taped up on a two by four nailed to the wall right above Ryan’s head where he was working. In the photo, she was hugging his waist and patting his chest. Red curls bounced around her head and her eyes were just as vibrant as the color. Now, she sat next to him with teal hair.]

“Oh! Did you see another color today?” she asked.

[Michael wondered what was the first color Ryan ever saw. He tried to look around the workshop for clues but nothing popped out.]

Ryan’s fingers stuttered for a half beat before he said, “Yeah. Blue. Obviously.”

Humming underneath her breath, she said, “Which shade?”

“Navy blue.”

“I like teal better but navy blue’s still cool.”

“Yeah, it’s calming.”

Meg laughed at the strangled sound of those words. Shaking her head, she set everything aside and turned to him. He rose an eyebrow at her before matching her movement, resting his chin on his knuckles and giving her his full attention.

“Calming? You sound like it murdered your puppy in front of you,” Meg said.

“Not murdered exactly but-.”

“Kicked it to the curb? Oh, god, please tell me this isn’t like Lady and the Tramp.”

“So, do you want spaghetti for dinner or no?”

“Ryan!”

And she was hugging him like in the picture except she lingered. Ryan knew it was coming but he let her hold on to him so he couldn’t have a chance to run.

“Really, though, tell me what’s going on.”

Ryan pushed up his glasses, shaking his head. “Soon. Promise.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word but if not then I’m coming down here and ruining your day, mister.” She was sticking her finger at him like he was a child and he leaned back in his chair to escape it.

“Sure, Meg.”

“Don’t ‘sure’ me. You-.”

“He’s almost done.”

[Michael tilted his head to the side as he tried to decipher the code that was splayed across Ryan’s laptop screen but it looked like gibberish. At best.]

Meg had the same look on her face but she was smiling because Ryan was and that was enough for her.

“Okay. Tell me when he gets up and running.”

[There was an odd pause where Michael felt awkward.] 

Ryan was staring off into space and Meg was glancing around at all the other knick knacks. She was always doing that. Surveying the room to see if there was more. There was one new thing and she smiled like she knew the story behind it. It was a coffee cup in the shape of a cat. 

Meg picked up the cup, smiling as she started up Ryan’s coffee maker. She waited a few minutes, tapping her foot to the beat of Ryan’s fingers flying over laptop keys. When enough coffee was made, she poured some into the cup and added one sugar and a tiny cup of hazelnut creamer. Taking a sip, she hummed when it was perfect and set it next to Ryan. 

No sound was heard as he said, “I will.”

With that, she patted his head, leaving his hair sticking up in odd spots. She laughed as he grumbled. She turned as he went back to typing. And she left as he disappeared back into his own head.

[After Meg left, Michael began to understood the gravity of what he was seeing. This wasn’t a man only taping his final moments. These were his confessions and the moments that stuck with him the most.]

Ryan held his hands over the steaming cup of coffee that Meg had left him. Red lipstick was stuck to the edge. The press of her lips was merely a memory now. Ryan ran his fingertips along the curve of the cat’s tail. Out of it. Out of control. He spent a few moments there with the cup, holding it somewhere miles away. 

[Michael waited for the drop. But nothing came. Furrowing his eyebrows, he realized how alike and how different anger was compared to the hollow stickiness of sadness and the utter insanity that was anxiety. Ryan’s body was thrumming and his feet were tapping. He wanted to run but the coffee cup was keeping him frozen in that moment. Finally, he snapped back into reality and stared straight at the camera. The blue of his eyes was merely a powder blue until the powder blew over it completely.]

Ryan walked over to the camera. His stride jittered and coughed like a sputtering engine that wasn’t turning quite right. Finally, he reached the camera and stuck a piece of paper on the lens. 

A hot pink post-it-not, no doubt a gift from Meg. 

[The words spun and spun in a dizzying way that made Michael feel weightless in a falling sky.]

Tell me, how do you ease your pain?  
Tell me what gets you through the long days and the darker nights?  
This is not easy for me to say.  
Tell me, how do I ease my pain?  
This is not easy for me to say.  
I’ll see you again when I’m done easing my pain.  
I’ll see you again when I drop further than I’ve ever been.  
I’ll see you on the other side of my nightmares.  
Will you be there when I wake?  
I have decided to drop again.  
Will you drop with me?  
Tell me, will you drop with me?  
Tell me, will it ease your pain?  
Tell me, will it ease my pain?  
Tell me, are you really there?  
Are you a shadow flickering on my wall?  
Is this just another night  
Where half awake dreams slip into reality?  
Where a drop will only make me believe that I’m okay?

Ryan waited a few moments before he took off the post-it-note and stuck another in its place.

I won’t drop again.  
I promise you this.  
I will be okay again.  
Tell me, do you believe me when I promise you this?  
Doesn’t matter because I believe in me.  
For once, I know that I’m strong enough to change.  
I will be okay.

The camera faded as Ryan shut his laptop and fell into his bed.

+

Michael paused the video, letting the flickering darkness of the motel room wash over him. He tried to scrub the thoughts from his mind but he couldn’t. They were a permanent stain, a product of things that had always resided in him but were too afraid to admit.

Now. Now, they were staring at him. 

For Ryan’s sake, he really hoped the guy wasn’t doing anything stupid like alcohol, cigarettes or, dear god, drugs. But Ryan didn’t seem the type and Meg was perceptive enough that she would have caught something. ‘Drop’ could mean anything. 

For Michael, well, ‘drop’ meant letting his emotions out by hitting a bag until he was overcome with exhaustion, mentally or physically, whichever happened first. Better than a trip. But still not the best.

His fingers curled over themselves. He felt an energy thrumming beneath the surface that he was so fucking scared of letting go. Could he control it if there was a time where he got so angry that he became blind with it?

Michael always hated the color red. He was so lucky that he saw orange for the first time. Well, lucky in a different way. But still. 

Sighing, Michael breathed in and out in even patterns until his heart was thumping nicely inside his chest. Cool, calm, collected. 

He could do this.

He grabbed a pen and a rolled up notebook from his bookbag. His little notes weren’t going to be half as good as Ryan’s. He could barely string a whole sentence together let alone eloquently express his emotions. But he could be blunt. That he could definitely do.

Ripping off a half sheet, he scrawled down a single sentence. Grabbing the camera, he turned it on and said, “So, Ryan did this little post-it-note schtick and I thought it was a good idea. Sorry for stealing your thunder, Rye, but, uh, here goes nothing.”

He showed the camera the paper, letting it linger for a minute before tilting it towards the stained motel floor and shutting it off.

The camera blinked, almost in refusal of Michael balling up the piece of paper and tossing it into the trash can. One confession tossed. Several more to go. 

He clicked the video and let it play over the sound of a crinkle and the rush of exposing yourself to something anonymous, inanimate. Free of judgement. Handed forgiveness. Michael shook his head, his curls bouncing around before he finally, finally zeroed back in on the video.

+

[Michael knows that there should have been some sort of warning besides a few shoddily edited pieces of footage that he barely had enough time to even question. A navy blue and black sniper rifle. A cream colored tag that had large block letters stamped on one side and a crude plague mask on the other. A single name. The rope was the same kind that Ryan had on the desk. Not hidden away. But out in plain sight. Michael just assumed it was for something trivial but not for this. And the screaming. God, the screaming.]

She had been screaming for a hot minute before she calmed and let Ryan maneuver her into the warehouse.

[This fucking dude just went off the goddamn deep end. Kidnapping people? He knew it was bad. Geoff had talked about Ryan’s deeds like he was ashamed of them. But he didn’t know it went this far. Mean, shit, Geoff just hit people, if needed. There was never any killing. Just stealing. It was still a crime, of course, and everyone was kept awake at night for it. But people in New Age needed to survive and handle their own. Punching a guy lessened the nightmares and gave you food and shelter at the same time. Easy pickings, really. But this shit? This was a league reserved for the big bosses or the ones that Michael reserved his harshest anger for.]

She didn’t fight back or run away. Ryan would’ve let her. But she didn’t do a single thing. When he tied her to the chair, he let the ropes slacken just a bit. She squirmed but didn’t tug the ropes free.

[Michael didn’t understand why she wasn’t fighting back. Ryan looked defenseless. Kick him in the fucking knee and he’d topple over like a feather tower. Breathe on him and he’d fucking turn into dust.]

Ryan sighed as he moved over to the table and switched on the lamp. The warm glow, almost the color of a luscious sepia morning, bathed them in betraying light. Here, Ryan’s actions were revealed and she was visible. 

[Teal washed over Michael in pin prick waves. Michael knew the facts, of course. The information was laid out in his brain. Logic told him that this, obviously, came next. The next step in the downhill trajectory of Ryan’s life. But Michael could have never been prepared for the stark reality of it.] 

“You have to understand,” Ryan said. When she hung her head, he added, “Please, Meg.”

Meg barely gave him a single glance as she turned her head and surveyed the warehouse. A blinking light and a whir from the dark corner to her left caught her attention.

“What-?”

Ryan followed her eyes. There was something in his gaze that weighed down her own until she wasn’t staring at whatever was in the corner but at Ryan’s tattered shoes. 

“Oh, that’s OWL,” Ryan said. He hummed underneath his breath as he walked into the corner and spoke in soft whispers to his first AI. 

Meg smiled despite everything as she watched a claw about half her size roll out from its charging station and straight towards her. Her voice lost a bit of its sadness as she said, “I love owls.”

And Ryan matched her smile. “I know.”

[Michael was taken back to that photo in Stella where Meg was wearing her owl shirt and had red hair and was hugging Ryan. Owls could see in the dark. Michael didn’t even wanna know how Meg was gonna see through this one.]

The AI rolled to a stop, whirring and vibrating so loudly Meg felt like she would shake out of the chair but it was a calming sound nonetheless. The mess of wires and metal shook and spun until the claw like fingers extended outwards. 

“OWL, don’t touch,” Ryan reprimanded but the AI continued on as if he didn’t even speak.

“No, it’s fine. He’s so cute, Ryan.” And she meant it, giggling through her words as the AI latched onto her shirt. She tilted forward just a bit, enough to tug at the ropes. They slid free and settled at her waist. With her hands unoccupied, she happily met OWL halfway and hooked a finger onto OWL’s cold metal ones. OWL’s motors practically purred at the touch. But, then, Meg’s lips slid into a frown. She turned to him and Ryan couldn’t handle how her eyes dug out the knots inside him and tried to untangle them with the same fingers that held on to OWL and the same heart that treated OWL like he was human and not some dumb robot. “Ryan, what’s going on?”

[Michael remembered the tag on the sniper rifle. The big black letters spelling out Meg’s name. He vaguely knew that Ryan had been under a horrid contract. He wasn’t as lucky as Michael to fly under the radar. He didn’t have the knowledge or the willpower to break from the demon’s clutches. And this was his punishment. The truth will forever remain lethal.]

“I have done a lot of things, Meg,” Ryan began. His words sizzled out into a stutter as his body shiver shook. Wrapping his arms around himself, he snuffed the ground with the edge of his shoe. It took a moment before he dragged the stool over so he could sit across from Meg. He didn’t dare get any closer, choosing to give her the space she needed to stop all this.

[If this was Michael and this was Geoff, there would be a month at most in between where neither would talk. Geoff would be holing himself up. Again. And Michael would be hitting the bag until he was bleeding and bruised. Again. Then, Michael would be the one to suck it up and wring him out until he was fucking dry. Some day. Man, some day, Michael wants Geoff to be able to speak to him. Upright. Front and center. Bare his soul out for him. But, then again, that wasn’t Geoff’s nature. Maybe Michael liked him more for that. That he would bend for him just a bit. Come to him soft and easy and slow once in awhile and not never. A sign that Geoff was letting him in. Oh, yes, trust was there. Hope too. And a little dash of something else that would let Michael give just as much as Geoff did. But they didn’t get there. Michael thinks they never will.]

“And I’m not proud of them. I’ve...I’ve taken people here. The first two I left here and didn’t think twice about. But then I had a moment where I realized what was happening and what I had allowed to happen and I couldn’t do that anymore. So, I brought people here but let them go in the morning. My boss found out. He told me that I couldn’t do that anymore but I kept trying to be better even though I’m not. And I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

[Michael remembered seeing the glimpses in between the sniper rifle business. There were other people in the warehouse, sitting in the same chair as Meg. But they were gone in flashes. Ryan wasn’t ready even after the fact to admit his wrongs. Words were easy. He could say it. That was fine. But showing his actions? God, it made it all the more real. A tangible thing. A black mark on your past. Michael knew that the words he had wrote on motel paper were flimsy. But he couldn’t show his actions. He didn’t have the foresight to record his darkest moments. And who would he share it with anyway? Who would stick through the whole thing? Ryan had Meg. He had Ray. But Michael didn’t have anybody. And that was something too that had to go down on a piece of paper. Tucked between the lines. Neat. Despite the emotions seeped within them. Words. Words were easy.]

OWL’s whirring stopped as Ryan’s body grew more and more tense. OWL wheeled over to him, nudging him in the leg until Ryan’s hand gently landed on the arm that was connecting OWL to his wheels and his claw.

“Ryan, you’re not making any sense.” Meg was trying to piece it together but she couldn’t see it. 

[Michael couldn’t blame her. This was the same nerd who danced with his AI, drank diet coke like it was his lifeblood, who watched anime, and was so knee deep in computers and engineering that he might as well marry his AI. Oh, and also wore Hello Kitty pajama pants. Which, for the record, Michael didn’t need to know.]

“People, Meg. People. They were people.” Ryan’s voice was as cold as the metal that he was gently rubbing back and forth. Meg watched as he built more and more walls. 

Rising from the chair, she cautiously walked over to him. Ryan watched OWL with wide eyes as he chirped once before wheeling over to the side to let her in. 

Her voice and her hand curling over his bicep almost stunned him. “Did you...kidnap these people?” 

“It was for...I had a reason, okay? I needed food and shelter and he came to me and said he could give me these things for a price. I didn’t...I didn’t know what he meant.” Ryan was pleading now, words broken and body shaken. Meg soothed him as much as she could, going as far as to wrap her arms around his waist. She cursed her height but only for a moment before Ryan returned the gesture, warmth seeping out and in between them. 

“You don’t have to be afraid about a single thing,” Meg said. Matter-of-fact, sure as could be. Ryan watched her be strong, watched her rising above him and trying to pull him with her. He grabbed her hand and let her drag him along. “You can face this.”

And that was the thing. 

Ryan turned away from her and stared at OWL running his claws along the desk, throwing things off in his way of cleaning up the warehouse. He was singing songs in metallic beeps and bobbing his claw. OWL had been a product of a breakdown that Ryan couldn’t control. His code was wonky at best and there were a lot of things that he had to learn but Ryan would because he knew he could. He was capable of things. He had made OWL and he had a friend. He had made it this far. 

[Michael smiled as the tape faded to after the night was over and Meg had gone home after staying to make sure he was still okay.]

Ryan was smiling too as he stuck a post-it-note to the lens.

I’ve waited so long  
To speak these easy words.  
I’m fucking done.  
With you and everything that has to do with you.  
A sweet revelation that wrapped me up in warmth.  
This smile.  
This love.  
This warmth.  
It’s not because of you.

The final scene of the Save File 1 was Ryan taking off the post-it-note and grabbing his helmet. He turned off the camera with a determined glint in his eye.

[Michael didn’t know what had happened afterwards or what would have caused Ryan to look like death took him as a vessel in the introduction for the video. There was no way to get the information now. Except the video kept on going. The scenery was completely different now.]

On a rooftop in New, Age, California with a monochrome night as its backdrop, Ryan made his final decision. Ryan set the sniper rifle down and turned to the camera.

“I’m gonna cut in a quick piece. I hope you don’t mind.”

[Michael didn’t care who ‘you’ was anymore. All he cared about was knowing what Ryan had done.]

The video faded into a hacked security camera of an apartment building. 

Fingers trembling. Feet slipping along the carpet. Ryan dragged his heart on a string behind him and let it fade in and out, in and out with each and every footfall. The last door on the left swung open before he could enter. 

A man in a three piece suit stepped out, his manor cool and easy, as he swung Ryan a smile. Ryan dodged it easily, watching it clatter to the floor. A frown slid into its place. The man pulled out the gun before Ryan had time to register it.

“Prince of New Age,” he said.

[Michael scoffed at the nickname. Typical rhetoric tactic. Butter up the person and then tear them down. Michael was never evil with it. Okay, yes, he totally did that to his boss but there was zero evil intentions there. This. This was a whole new level. Michael didn’t know how he got out of New Age alive. He now saw why Geoff was so fucking scared that he’d die and why he was so fucking relieved that Michael had found him and not some devil reincarnate.]

“I saw great things in you, Ryan. But look at what you have done. You have shamed this whole city, had let them down. We were going to purge it of its demons but you have failed in ways that I could never comprehend. Who are you, now, huh?” His voice never faltered from its low pitch. It curled and unfurled inside of Ryan and he found that his cheeks were hot from a feeling that he couldn’t hide. The man zeroed in on it, laughing low in his throat. “Y’know I saw red first. It was so pretty and beautiful how it pooled and slid out of people’s wounds. I feel that you will see that soon, Ryan. And with this final name, you will. After this, you can leave. You can turn your back. I won’t try to stop you.”

The tag at the end of the gun almost hypnotized Ryan as he tried to catch the name. In heavy black letters spelled out a familiar name.

[Michael didn’t realize he was screaming it.]

“Geoff?” Ryan questioned. 

But it didn’t matter because the man had him and he couldn’t do anything about it. If Ryan didn’t do something first, he would take Geoff down along with his crew and Meg. God, what would Meg do in this situation? He couldn’t see her getting into something as stupid as this. Something frigid eased its way into his heart and he felt it shrivel as he succumbed. 

“Okay.” The hollow words echoed throughout the hallway as Ryan spun on his heel and left. 

The man’s crooked smile and grating laugh pounded the nails in his coffin.

The feed switched off, returning back to Ryan kneeling in front of the lens like he didn’t have a sniper rifle, like he wasn’t going to be making a decision that was irreversible.

[And fucked up. This was fucked up. This was something that Michael couldn’t comprehend. That Geoff was. That he could be. This couldn’t be happening.]

Ryan flipped over to his stomach. Scritch scratch. 

[Michael didn’t flinch at the red scritch scratch and the harsh drag of his nails biting into skin.]

He set up the sniper rifle and looked down the scope. He felt the man’s eyes on him as his fingers squeezed the trigger.

The pop and whizz rattled his skull. The shake of the gun stun his hands. The sound and the feel. The sensations and the constant thrum of the city and the pulse of the stars above him. Everything whirled in a cyclone. The second coming. 

And then Ryan saw the spray on the sidewalk.

It was red.

[Michael saw orange. It came in sharp, stinging bursts. A pop and whizz of color. There was Geoff, sitting at the bar. Michael hadn’t know that he would be the kid that would see color. He just assumed that everything would be normal and continued on with life. Plus, he had bigger things to worry about than not being one of the lucky ones. But there was Geoff. Orange butterflies fluttering in Michael’s stomach. Taking flight. Tart apricots that made his mouth twist and a hard pit settle in his stomach, crushing the fragile wings of the butterflies. Lava and fire consuming him until he was bubbling. A final trip. A sudden drop. Sepia mornings turned up. A sharp contrast. Nothing would be as wonderful as this as Michael fell back on to the bed.]

Ryan’s body jackknifed until he landed on the unforgiving surface of the roof. A complex spinning of thoughts rushed through him at the gravity of his mistakes. Finally, it calmed as he threw the sniper rifle over the roof. The clatter shot through the fog, bursting through to that one singular moment where he saw blue for the first time. 

[Run. Michael had ran and never looked back. He saw Geoff sitting there in the bar and had drifted to him. He stuck around. But then the glow faded and the reality of Geoff’s less than there desire reared its mournful, ugly head. Michael had ran when the older man told him to.]

Run. Run and never look back.

“Ryan! What was that? Goddamn, what did you just do? Oh, you are so fucking lucky that the dude down there just had a graze. Jack took him away. Don’t worry about that. What you do have to worry about is the fucking war that you just started!”

[When Geoff’s voice flooded his brain, Michael finally, finally let the tears slip free. He smiled like a dope at the ceiling because even though he was the one that had let go, he really never did. And now there was hope blossoming inside him so thick that it made him dizzy. See, Michael knew that Geoff probably went to Austin. He had a feeling at least. But he never allowed himself to understand the truth of his emotions. A stupid hypocrite who wanted Geoff to just say something when in reality he was doing the same. He wanted to fly to Austin. He wanted to tell Geoff everything. Because he was alive. And that warm surge, a hot, burning orange, grew more fervor. A subtle flick of a flame turned into a wildfire unable to be tamed. Something about the idea of losing Geoff completely by way of death was more of a motivator than anything else. Maybe because Geoff had been so close to that frigid, final end that Michael never wanted to take that chance again. Geoff needed to know. At least for Michael’s sake.]

“Geoff, I’m so sorry.”

Ryan was gripping onto Geoff, almost tearing at his jacket from the force of it. But Geoff let him hold on to him, let him shatter into pieces in front of him.

“Tell Meg to go. Tell them all to go.” Ryan inhaled deeply as he continued, “I’ll finish this, okay?”

Geoff shook his head adamantly. “No, you’re not gonna kill him. Don’t give that asshat what he wants.”

Ryan tilted his head up at him with this look that just broke Geoff in half. “What can I do, Geoff, but that?”

“Uh, I don’t know. How about you come down to Austin with us? Forget this happened. Move on.”

But it wasn’t as easy as that. Words were simple, of course. But actions weren’t. 

“I have to.”

Geoff knew all about vengeance. Of course he did. So, he hauled Ryan up and held on to him even when he began to fight him. 

“Think of a plan at least. Please, Ryan. For the goddamn sake of everyone, stop being so fucking stupid.”

Ryan kicked the camera stand over and went lax in Geoff’s grip.

+

The video faded into its final part.

There were blankets on the floor of the warehouse. Ryan, Geoff, Jack, and Gavin were sitting on the floor. An empty whiskey bottle was in the center and another next to Geoff. 

All of them had bruises and cuts except for Jack who, more than likely, got them out of whatever situation they had been.

“Meg’s down in Austin, right?” Geoff asked. He waited to reach for the whiskey, instead keeping a tough gaze on Ryan. But Ryan met it with an easy stare. 

“Yep. I got the confirmation from her.” He smirked as he added, “And, yes, I hijacked the airport cameras to make sure.”

Gavin gawked at him. “I could’ve done that!”

“You were too busy crashing every car in the whole city.” Gavin pouted at that but Jack’s warm hand on his knee soothed him over. He grinned, then, with his gold aviators and wrinkled suit. 

[Michael got a weird sense of fondness. He had gotten stubborn when Jack kept inviting him to after parties like these. Trust this group of ragtag idiots and he’d find himself dead along with them. They’d lie and cheat Michael straight to the grave. But his vision was clouded by past mistakes and Michael had been so stupid as to not let himself be apart of this when he had the opportunity. He wasn’t sure he would get it now, even with his own video to give them as a weird apology.]

Geoff remained silent as Jack looked on with adoration as Ryan and Gavin shared jabs.

[The oddity of it made Michael look at him, really look at him. The suit and the crooked bowtie. Sitting criss cross. Lax and easy. Like he was easing between the various planes of life. A ghost amongst the living. But to Michael, he was sharper than everyone else. He saw like him a cut out drawing held together by strings. Hot pink sunglasses dangled from his fingers. Tattooed knuckles. Stories and captured moments etched into warm, pale skin. The press of them against the small of his back and how easily they tangled into his curls. He was wrapped up in a bow with bright orange dots. Michael was a mess of broken shelves. Should be loved like a man like that. But never will.]

“The plane’s gonna leave in an hour, right?” Geoff asked. 

It broke the easy manner of the other’s banter. Jack turned to him, catching the way Geoff grew suddenly tense. 

“Geoff-.”

“Jack, don’t.”

“But Michael-.”

“He’s gone, Jack. He’s gone and it’s fine.” 

For once, Geoff’s words were sand. Jack shook his head and Geoff refused to meet his eyes as he grabbed the whiskey bottle by its neck and stood. He walked over to the door to the warehouse, swung it open, and slammed it shut.

“He’s stubborn,” Ryan commented. When Jack rose an eyebrow at him, he added, “I’ve had my fair share of the consequences of it. Ray and I are both like that.”

“It’s all about communication,” Jack added. Ryan nodded with a silent hum. 

“Let’s get going before he tries to drive off into the ocean again.” 

It wanted to come out as a joke but Jack was rushing to the door before Ryan got his words halfway out. Gavin ran behind him, whining when he couldn’t grab his hand in time. Ryan stayed behind for a second, glancing at the camera like he knew exactly who was watching. 

He turned to the table where a single post-it-note was left. Even the AI was gone. He smiled as he tossed it around a bit before walking to the camera. Sticking it on the lens, he nodded to himself like ending the video like this was the best it could be.

Ryan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and left the warehouse.

[The words leaked through the lens and into Michael’s hands. He cradled them as he read them over and over again.]

I sat there once in the room of the past  
Freezing because I refused to allow myself to be warm  
And I grabbed my hair  
And tugged and tugged  
And screamed and screamed  
I had never felt so cold  
From the inside to the outside  
Now I feel this warmth of humanity  
Moving bodies, alive with me  
They have made it  
We have made it  
I made it  
And I am the  
One Who’s Loved

The overflowing pour of human pain. 

[Michael clenched his fists as he slammed his laptop shut, turned on his side, and let this heavy wall fall.]


End file.
